I don't own anything.

That's right... I'm back! No one wants excuses... you want to know what happened to poor, poor Edward. Sigh. Go! I'll see you at the bottom.

Fuck, how am I going to explain this?

So, I sat at the top of the roof, looking down at Edward, wondering what the fuck I was going to do.

Emmett was no help, standing stock-still a foot away from Edward's clearly broken form, making awkward chocking sounds and looking panicked.

"Dude, your leg… Oh, fuck! Look at your arm! Man, I can't even…"

Emmett made some more stuttering sounds before turning his back on the scene, mumbling quietly to himself. I rolled my eyes before descending the stairs so I could go down to check on Edward. Saying this was not my plan for the day was beyond an understatement. Alas, the best laid plans…

Once I hit the grass, I booked it around the building, stopping abruptly a few feet from Edward's crumpled body. He was lying on his stomach, legs sprawled, head tilted toward Emmett. He made low, pained moaning sounds, and, for a moment, I was (selfishly) thankful that he was not facing me – I wasn't sure if I could handle the look that would be on his face.

My mind instantly went into overdrive, and I began to pace, manically pulling my hair away from my face.

Okay. Well, his leg doesn't actually look broken. It just sort of looks like it's lying awkwardly – maybe a sprain, max. That wrist, though… Oh, ew. That wrist. So not good. How many fucking bones are in a wrist? Like, a million, right? Oh, my God. Did he break a million bones? Charlie is going to kill me when he finds out about this.

Snap out of it. Not about you. Not about you… Okay. How do we fix this? Well, we can't go to Cuntmaster; she's definitely not going to be any help after that little encounter today… All right. All right, Bella. You got this. Esme? No, she'd cry or something. Rose? No, she'd say it was his own fault. Dr. Cullen? He can help; he's a doctor, right? Or, do shrinks not go to the same school as real doctors? I thought I saw on an episode of Grey's Anatomy that they all started off the same way? Maybe they all know how to fix this shit?

No, he definitely needs a hospital. God, that is like a million broken bones. I don't even-


Emmett screaming my name and waving his hands in front of my face snapped me out of my Moment O' Crazy. I looked up at him to see him eyeing at me like I had nine heads.

"If you're done thinking out loud? I'm pretty sure you're freaking Ed out more than he needs right now. We'll touch on who Cuntmaster is later, but right now… I think we need Carlisle."

I shot him a withering look before finally going into action.

"You are not helping! Do you have Dr. Cullen's number?"

He slowly nodded, and I directed Emmett to call him while I made my way around to the other side of Edward, bracing myself for the look on his face. He was… smiling? Must be shock.

"I break a million bones, and you start grumbling about Grey's Anatomy… Women." His words were bitter, but the tone of them was light, albeit pained.

"I'm so sorry!" I flitted between the ideas of kneeling next to him and backing away to make sure I didn't hurt him more. I decided to get closer.

"I didn't realize I was thinking out loud. For the record, it doesn't look like you broke a million bones…"

"A thousand, maybe?" He grunted as he sat up on his knees, using his good hand for leverage. I held out an arm awkwardly in case he lost his balance (which, let's face it, was always a possibility with him), but he didn't need it. Apparently, injured Edward handled moving about better than normal Edward. The boy was an enigma.

"How's your leg?" I asked quietly, apparently thinking that if my voice was small, the pain would be, too.

"Leg's fine," he groaned around clenched teeth. "The wrist, however, is making me nauseous." He held his wrist against his chest gingerly and I internally gagged at the sight of it just sort of… flopping around. He winced, but dutifully suffered without making a sound.

Before I could say anything back, I heard Emmett snap his phone shut.

"Well," he said, walking back over to us, "they say the weedums helps with that, right? They give it to really sick people. Smoke some more. Can't hurt you now that you're on the ground."

"Shut up," Edward and I both said in unison, causing Edward to laugh, and then instantly wince as the movement got to his wrist. I winced with him.

"What'd Dr. Cullen say?" I was hoping his response would be, Oh, you silly kids. Not a problem! I'll be right there to fix it, and no one will ever know.

Apparently, I was feeling optimistic that day.

"Doc's on his way. I didn't tell him what you guys were doing, but he's not dumb. He knows we weren't supposed to be over here… He sounded more concerned than pissed, but I dunno how long that'll last." He smirked a little, making his dimples pop out. I wanted to smack him just then.

"You couldn't have made up a story? C'mon, Emmett! He will flip a shit if he finds out what we were doing." I glared at him, hoping I developed some sort of Jedi mind trick that would burn a hole into him. No such luck. I went with the next best thing; I grabbed Edward's fallen joint, and thrust it at Emmett with my still unlit one.

"Here. Take this. Run. I don't care if you smoke them or pull all the seeds out and grow your own fucking plant. Get them as far away from Dr. Cullen as possible. But first –"

I ran to Edward, giving him an apologetic smile before I revealed what I was about to do.

"Okay. Very, very gently, I'm going to take off your shirt. It reeks already, and Dr. Cullen isn't an idiot." I grabbed the hem and lifted gently, trying not to take a look at what I was uncovering. While Edward and I tried to remove it without causing any further pain to his distorted wrist, I spoke to Emmett over my shoulder.

"Take off your shirt, Emmett. You need to switch with Edward. I don't care if it looks like a tube top on you, just do it. I am not dealing with him freaking out over this on top of the broken bones." Before I even had the opportunity to throw any real threats his way, Emmett's shirt fell onto my head, unceremoniously.

After I safely removed Edward's shirt, I threw it behind my back in the general direction I assumed Emmett was in, mumbled something to the effect of "run", and then helped Edward put on Emmett's (much larger) shirt. Hopefully, Dr. Cullen would be too worried about Edward to notice that the shirt he was wearing was designed for a body builder… who wore an overpowering cologne.

After a few minutes, the adrenaline started to leave Edward's body, and he was in bad shape. I didn't know what else to do, so I had him lay down with his head in my lap, and I gently pushed his hair out of his face, over and over, trying to calm him. He was sweating and so pale that I was starting to seriously become concerned.

"Scale of one to ten?" I asked quietly, still afraid to speak too loudly.

"If ten is 'God awful?' Probably a fourteen. Fuck." He groaned and dug his face further into my thigh. I started to hum quietly to him, because I just didn't know what the fuck else to do. It started out as a random tune, but turned into You Are My Sunshine. It seemed to calm him down a bit, so I hummed it repeatedly until finally, finally, Dr. Cullen showed up.

His normally perfect hair appeared as though he'd been running his hands through it, and his face showed a combination of fear, concern, and anger.

"I called the paramedics, and they're on their way. We are going to pretend that neither of you were breaking any rules here because, to be honest, I am too worried right now to worry about being mad at either of you." He gave Bella a stern look before kneeling beside Edward.

"How are you feeling?" His voice was gentle and fatherly.

Edward made a garbled sound without bothering to open his eyes. Dr. Cullen nodded as if that were a valid response before standing, then helping both Edward and I to stand with him.

After Dr. Cullen explained that it would be easier if we all made our way to the nearest parking lot, in order to be closer to the EMTs when they got there, he silently lead the way. I had a sick feeling in my stomach, waiting for him to yell at us, or scold us, or something. He didn't, though. He stayed silent… which, to be honest, was kind of worse.

Once we made it to the parking lot, there was much fanfare from the other campers, which Dr. Cullen tried to fend off. It didn't go so well. The EMTs made appropriately appreciative/disgusted/amazed noises and comments at Edward's wrist. He was not amused.

When it came time for them to put Edward into the ambulance, he was told that only Dr. Cullen could go with him.

The phrase "hissy fit" would be an absolute understatement in reference to the way Edward reacted. He went completely apeshit. There was yelling, cursing, and at one point, I'm pretty sure a threat at the pudgy EMT's life. Edward went nuts.

"I apologize, but it is not done. Since you have no family here, only an official of the establishment may accompany you in the vehicle to the hospital. There is nothing we can do," the pudgy man said in a "you are nuts, why am I speaking to you as if you are sane?" voice.

Edward's response was to turn away from the EMT and begin walking in the direction of the cabins. Dr. Cullen looked from the back of Edward's head, to the EMT, and the expression on his face was unreadable.

"Edward! Stop! Where are you going?" Dr. Cullen began slowly jogging to catch up to Edward. Against my better judgment, I followed suit, trying to stay silent while keeping in earshot.

"If she's not going, then I'm not going. I don't care if the prick with the power complex has a uniform, it doesn't mean I'm going to listen to him. She stays here, I stay here." Edward's voice trembled a little; his face was getting paler by the second, and as he held his wrist loosely, though closely, to his chest I began to notice just how wobbly he was on his feet.

"Edward, you cannot just ignore this. I understand you're upset, but you can't just pretend that you didn't break… well, most likely four or more bones. Let's hope it's only four breaks..." Dr. Cullen paused, sighed, and ran a hand down his face. "It doesn't matter how many bones are broken right now. What matters is that if we don't get that taken care of very soon, you will be lucky to have any function in that part of your arm at all."

Edward paused with his back still to Dr. Cullen, lowering his head and visibly shrinking at the thought.

"Look. Not to break up this little moment of 'realism' or whatever you two are doing… but, we've got two pissed EMTs a ways back, and I am pretty sure I'm not the only one who thinks it'd be friggin' sweet if Edward could move his hand… ever again. So, let's break up this little pow-wow, yeah? Dr. Cullen, you go grab Esme to escort Edward to the hospital, and I'll go with you in your car. You know… if you don't mind?" I realized just a half a second before I was finished speaking that not only did I have no right to take over the situation, but that they would probably both look at me like I was some asshole overstepping my bounds.

Thankfully, neither of them pointed out the fact that I was making decisions way beyond my theoretical rank, and just went with what I said. Both seemed to like my idea, and sprang into action. Well, Dr. Cullen sprang into action, whereas Edward sort of… trudged behind, holding his arm to his chest.

I had a fleeting moment where I thought the swelling was much lower than I'd expected it to be, but I let it fall by the wayside. Edward's arm and wrist were fucked up. Period. The poor kid was doomed, to say the least.

Regardless, Edward began to follow Dr. Cullen back toward the EMTs, and I had a little happy dance of victory – I had led both my counselor/doctor and my boyfriend to go with my plan. Hello, I'm awesome.

Or, at least I felt that way; that is until we got back to the ambulance and took in the scene before us. The EMTs were furious, and several of the girls were hitting on them (despite their rotund status), and neither of them seemed thrilled that Edward, Dr. Cullen, and I had resurfaced. I was unsure of how much of their disappointment was aimed at my presence. I tried to ignore it, which was more difficult than one would assume.

Dr. Cullen relayed the new plan to the EMTs while I rounded up Esme and gave her the low-down.

"I'm glad to see you taking charge, dear," she quietly spoke while giving me a quick hug. "So much improvement!" She made a few tittering sounds about men never being able to solve anything on their own before ushering me over to her husband.

Chubby EMT, Bryce, and chubbier EMT, Alan, seemed thrilled that the problem had been solved and ushered Edward into the ambulance. I gave his good hand a quick squeeze as he walked away, and he shot me a withering smile that I'm pretty sure he thought looked braved. Well, he tried, and he wasn't crying. I had expected less of him, to be honest.

After the ambulance drove away, flashing lights and all (which I'm sure Edward was just thrilled about), I followed Dr. Cullen silently to his ridiculous Mercedes SUV. Seriously, the thing was a shiny, black monstrosity. I rolled my eyes and hopped into the passenger seat, waiting impatiently for Dr. Cullen to get in and start the car.

As he buckled his seatbelt, he noticed me tapping my foot in the passenger seat. He let a small smile grace his face before turning to start the car and back out of the space.

"Are you nervous, Bella?" I could hear the smile in his voice, but it felt almost mocking.

"I don't know if nervous is the right word."

Judging by the sideways glance Dr. Cullen sent me, I assumed this was not a thorough enough response. Of course it wasn't. Why would it be? Was the man ever not working?

I sighed.

"I'm worried that Edward is going to throw another temper tantrum, and that your wife will be too nice to tell him to shut the hell up and take it like a man. Good with stressful situations, that boy is not."

Dr. Cullen erupted into one of his extremely loud belly laughs and shook his head slowly back and forth.

"That boy has no idea what he's in for with you, kid."

For some reason, the term of endearment made me smile. I hadn't had any authority figure refer to me in such a way since I was a kid, before Grandpa Swan died.

"Aw, shucks, Dr. Cullen. Are you starting to like me?"

I saw him smirk out of the corner of my eye, but I refused to look at him. I'd never handled situations like that well.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

After our weird version of an emotional moment in the car, Dr. Cullen and I were mostly silent for the rest of the way to the hospital. Sure, some small talk about traffic and terrible radio commercials popped up every once in a while, but for the most part the ride was spent in a comfortable silence.

When we finally pulled into the parking garage of the hospital, I was jumping out of my skin. Sure, the ride with Dr. Cullen wasn't so bad, but I just wanted to be near Edward. I was borderline frantic, thinking of how he'd react if a nurse touched him. He was a wuss. I was pretty sure I was in love with him… but he was a freaking wuss.

When Dr. Cullen and I were finally "let in" to Edward's room, (which, to be honest, looked more like a cot surrounded by flimsy curtains), I was practically twitching. It was like I was waiting to explode, and the only solution was Edward. Don't worry, I knew I was insane.

It didn't matter, though; because there, on a pathetic cot, in a horrific gown that I was absolutely sure was embarrassing him, was Edward. His hair was a fucking wreck, and his face was a splotchy red, like mine after I watch Wicker Park. I wanted to jump him. You know, in a non-creepy way.

After I got over my initial hormonal reaction, I took him in.

His legs seemed fine under the cheap, paper thin blanket the hospital provided. His arm, however, didn't seem so grand. It was wrapped in a large white cast, with Esme's name written in huge, silver letters along the side with little hearts all around it – literally from one end to the other, taking up the cast from elbow to wrist. She looked ridiculously proud of her artwork. I rolled my eyes and sidled over to the right side of his bed, in order to avoid bumping into the giant cast on his left arm.

"Hey guys, can I talk to Bella for a few minutes? We won't be long." His cheeks pinked a bit when Esme shot him a knowing smirk. She grabbed Dr. Cullen by the elbow and led him out of the little tent around the bed.

"Come on, dear. The lovebirds need some time alone, and you need to buy me a scone from the coffee cart near the waiting room," Esme's voice trailed off the further they got from us.

The silence was stifling, and I had no idea what to say. I shuffled between my feet for a moment, then popped him one on his shoulder.

"So, do you feel like a badass?"

"Oh yeah, I felt like a total badass when the tiny Asian devil posing as a doctor reset my arm and I cried like a baby." He made a 'harrumph' sort of noise and scooted over on the bed.

"Will you just… can you just lay here with me for a minute? I'm so tired, and I think I just need you to be closer. Okay?" He didn't look up, but sort of spoke to the bumps in the blanket created by his knees. Under normal circumstances, I probably would have made fun of him. But then, I just kind of wanted to be close to him, too.

I toed off my shoes and very carefully laid down beside him. I didn't know where to put my arms, and I fumbled awkwardly for a moment trying to figure it out. Cuddling wasn't my strong suit on a good day.

"Oh, for the love of God, Bella. I'm pumped full of pain meds, you can't hurt me." He wrapped his good arm around my shoulders and abruptly pulled me into his side. I ignored the slight sting as my ribs crashed into his (strangely) muscular side, and rested my head on his shoulder.

We sat in silence for a while until I had assumed he'd fallen asleep. I gently ran my hand down the inside of his cast, mentally slapping myself for not even asking what the damage was. I rubbed lightly at the strange texture of the cast, wondering how fast the stark white he picked would get dirty because of his epic clumsiness.

Then, abruptly and unwanted, a horrible train of thoughts surfaced.

What is he going to do at the camp now? It's not like he can give lifeguard lessons. I mean, thankfully it's not his dominant hand, but still… this rotation he's got all of the freaking water activities. Will Dr. Cullen make him leave? That place is going to blow without him.

I cannot be at Nut Hut Summer Camp without him. Fuck.

After that little display from Cuntmaster today, people think I'm some assault and battery charge waiting to happen. Will they think I pushed him?

Actually, that wouldn't be so bad… If Tanya thinks I pushed my boyfriend off of a roof, I bet she'd think twice before fucking with me again.

"Bella, why are you laughing?" Edward mumbled from underneath me, sounding worn out but amused.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" I looked up at him, not bothering to move my head from his shoulder. Stupid, cute, dumb, clumsy boy.

I leaned my head up to kiss him and was surprised when he responded quickly, grabbing a fist full of the back of my hair and making an absolutely fantastic sound from somewhere in his throat. I wonder if they let him keep underwear on beneath that little paper dress? I hope not.

Alas, I never got to find out.

Dr. Cullen, Esme, and who I assumed was the "tiny Asian devil posing as a doctor" came in through the curtain. Esme sort of got misty eyed, and Dr. Cullen looked worried about the situation. I enjoyed receiving that look from adults – it made me feel like I was doing something right.

The tiny (seriously, I'm talking smaller than Alice, tiny) Asian woman rolled her eyes and spoke up.

"Okay, Edward. As we discussed, the cast will need to stay on for six weeks." She tried to hand him a stapled packet of paper, which he couldn't get with either hand with me and the cast in the way, so I took it for him. She looked less than pleased.

"That has specific instructions on what you can and cannot do with the cast. There is a phone number at the top of the first page you can call if you have questions. Obviously, you aren't in pain now because of what we gave you before resetting the bones, but you will be soon, so we need to discuss your options."

Edward looked to Dr. Cullen, as if he wanted him to handle the situation.

"Well, let's hear the options, Edward. I'm not your physician, so really Dr. Wible's opinion overrides mine." Dr. Cullen motioned toward Dr. Wible, to which she made a face that conveyed "why thank you for giving me the floor in my own workplace, jackass."

She was growing on me.

"I'm going to recommend a methocarbomal to keep the muscles relaxed, just for the next three days or so, to make sure you don't get spasms. As for the pain itself, your options are varied. Since the pain won't be severe after the first day or so, I would say you should stick with a low-dosage oxycodone, but as you proved so well earlier, you don't exactly have a stomach of steel."

She shot him a look of annoyance, to which he blushed.

"I might have thrown up when she grabbed my arm to reset it. I'm not proud," he whispered in my ear. I tried to stifle the giggles, but it was difficult.

"So, considering your stomach, I'm going to say your best bet is going to be a combination of oxycodone, and medicinal cannabis." Did she just say….?

"You mean…" Esme began, but didn't finish her sentence.

"Are you telling me you want to give him pot?" Dr. Cullen's voice was so high pitched, and so loud, I jumped. And then, it hit me. She wanted to give him more weed?

In a frightening unison, Edward and I both sat up stark straight on the bed and spoke at the same time.


*I am aware that probably all of the medical terms / ideas / concepts / solutions / activities in this chapter and story are completely unrealistic and/or wrong. That's the joy of fiction!*

Thank you all for your fantastic patience. I told you I wasn't abandoning them... and I promise, I'm still not. Please, review, tell me what you thought! I've missed you guys!